


Road trip

by elementary



Series: Team Free Dorito and the apocalypse [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Supernatural
Genre: Crossover Pairings, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Season/Series 04, Slow Burn, Team Free Dorito
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-04 21:03:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4152864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elementary/pseuds/elementary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Friends. Yeah, he thinks they’re friends now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [8sword](https://archiveofourown.org/users/8sword/gifts).



> I can't believe it; there is a second part. This is a sequel to "Coffee is not an option" which started out as a sequel to 8sword's "here is someone like me" and just expanded. Many thanks to those who have enjoyed the first bit! Also, titles are hard.

Sightseeing is something that Dean has always done from the window of the Impala. The first few years in the backseat with Sammy, and then when he grew older, from the driver's seat drumming his hands along to whatever classic rock song was on at the time on the wheel.

They're driving down south for no special reason. As much as Dean wants to see his brother, he’s waiting for something in his heart to settle and searching for a distraction. The I-79 takes them from Pennsylvania to West Virginia where they stop for dinner and to Dean’s dismay, sleep at Cap’s insistence.

(“But I’m not tired. I’d rather keep driving.”

“You would say that even if you _are_ tired. I’d rather not sleep in the car again.”)

It had made Dean bristle and cross his arms defensively, feeling a little ashamed and exposed by this man who already has a somewhat accurate impression of him. Barnes had not voiced an opinion, but Dean could tell who he had agreed with. They knew that at this point, he wouldn’t compromise their comfort in favour of getting his way.

Bucky Barnes and Captain America are increasingly interfering with Dean’s (admittedly bad) habits. God, these guys have known him for what, a few days now and they’ve barely scratched the surface of who he is but they keep barging in and making a way. It’s uncomfortable, to say the least. Gets on his nerves. There’s also something else he’d rather not analyze too deeply.

Dinner is a simple affair, some pizza place in Beckley that came highly recommended, according to Barnes. It’s a bit too fancy for Dean’s tastes, but he has to admit that the place isn’t shy on the toppings which he’s happy about.

By the time they find a motel, it’s eight in the evening and only one room is available. On the bright side, it at least has two beds so they only need to decide who gets the floor for the night. Dean would have been on one of the beds by default because of his recovery, but he forcefully includes himself in the fight; he refuses to be babied any longer, damn it.

And lo and behold, the fight ends in two rocks and one scissor, but Dean readily takes the floor despite his loss. After a bad movie and a rerun of Doctor Sexy, M.D. (“There’s nothing else to watch, Barnes. Shut up.”), they settle into their respective sleeping areas. Dean then proceeds to drill them on monster trivia that they covered the day before until he gets a pillow to the face.

All in all, it’s not a bad way to end the day.

 

\- - - - -

 

The next morning, Dean wakes up at six a.m. for no good reason, though he suspects it’s his body kicking his brain for getting too much rest. To be honest, if it weren’t for Cap and Barnes, he would have continued pushing himself right after leaving the hospital.

He blinks drowsily up at the ceiling, vaguely aware of the steady breathing and quiet snores from the other two occupants of the room. There are no usual after-effects of a hell-related nightmare, and for that Dean’s thankful (he hadn’t wanted to sleep in the car or deal with the argument against that suggestion); no one needs to know the kind of crap he has in his head.

Restlessness gets him moving after a few minutes, and he washes up quietly before stepping out of the room.

It’s still a little chilly to be official spring weather, but Dean welcomes it. He doesn’t see anyone around at this time which allows him to stretch then go running in peace. There are no familiar roads in this area, so he keeps track of which route he takes as he runs.

The way he runs out of breath after fifteen minutes of running is a testament to how out of shape he is currently. He decides to turn at that point and start heading back so he isn’t straining his lungs in their post-pneumonia state (Dean can be reasonable, too).

When he gets back, he heads straight to the bathroom to take a shower only to run into a freshly washed Cap who is exiting. There’s a sound of damp clothes against wet skin, then Dean grunts and stumbles back, feeling like he just ran into a wall; it gives him a strange sense of déjà vu. A hand grabs his wrist to steady him.

“Sorry; are you alright, Dean?”

Dean stands up straight, shakes off the hand. “Yeah, no harm done. It was my bad.” He looks up at Cap, slightly embarrassed. “Hope I didn’t get sweat all over you.”

The guy doesn’t even look disgusted, shrugs on his shirt. “It’s fine. Where did you go off to?”

“For a short run,” Dean answers, still panting slightly. “Burn off some energy.”

Cap nods. “It’s nice to do it early in the morning. I’ll get you some water.”

“No, I can get it—”

“You both can shut up,” mutters Barnes from the bed.

Cap smiles in that direction. “You know what you can do, Bucky?”

“Sleep.”

“You’re awake now,” Dean points out.

“All your fault,” comes the grumbled reply. “Had a dream about vampires and I haven’t even seen one yet.”

That makes Dean laugh. “I’ll give you bonus points.”

“In sleeping hours,” Barnes says even though the man is fully conscious.

Cap then decides to physically manoeuver Barnes out of bed, and Dean enters the bathroom to the sound of protests and cursing.

It’s the same old crappy water pressure as every other motel, but he enjoys his shower nonetheless.

 

\- - - - -

 

At the request (demand) of his passengers, Dean makes a brief detour to The George Washington and Jefferson National Forests because what’s a road trip without visiting nearby tourist locations, right? Dean himself is a first-time visitor, and he doesn’t mind so much thanks to the scenic route. They don’t do much more than drive along the available roads with acres and acres of forest surrounding them but it’s a nice experience, and Dean can sort of understand why people have cottages out in the woods to get away every once in a while. He says as much.

“Maybe you can get one for yourself,” Cap says. “Take a break from hunting.”

Dean already has a million reasons why he can never get a break formed in his mind and that he’ll most likely die before any plans for the future come to fruition, but he just shrugs. “Maybe.”

If Cap hears the lack of agreement in his answer, he doesn’t mention it.

 

\- - - - -

 

Hours later after a gas stop, they’re passing through Charlotte, NC and the immense city intimidates Dean. Cap and Barnes look excited though, so they stop at a nicer-than-usual hotel courtesy of Cap. It’s times like these when the desk clerk eyes him sceptically as he’s booking them a room that Dean feels unsuited for this kind of luxury in his leather jacket and worn jeans. He glares back, and it makes the haughty man cower.

Barnes smirks at their exchange.

Their room actually has three beds: two doubles and a single twin. The walls are a clean white colour, the carpet lacks questionable stains, and the bed covers aren’t some hideously-patterned fabric. There’s also a window with an actual view framed by deep blue curtains. A small round table sits in the corner with two plush chairs.

Dean can’t help but let out an impressed whistle at the sight. It’s the kind of place that the Winchesters avoid because it’s a waste of their limited resources when all they need is a place to sleep and keep their stuff. He definitely better not get used to it.

The twin bed’s ridiculously soft when he flops on it. Damn it.

He hears two other thuds and creaking mattresses, and for a while no one says anything. A six to seven hour drive is a piece of cake for Dean and even he thinks he might fall asleep right now. But there are more important matters to attend to.

“I’m hungry,” he says, and receives murmurs of agreement.

Still no movement.

“We should get up,” he tries again, and gets the same mumbles in return.

Dean waits another minute, then he sighs and gets up. “Lazy fuckers,” he says under his breath.

They probably heard that, but their non-response gives him the illusion that he got away with the insult. When Dean turns to head towards the door, he sees them sprawled face down on their respective claimed beds. Cap is holding up his card, not even looking up.

Dean rolls his eyes, but swipes the card from the man’s hand. “Don’t complain when I come back with a hundred bucks worth of food.”

The now empty hand just waves dismissively.

“A hundred bucks!” Dean repeats as he leaves through the door.

 

\- - - - -

 

The total comes out to nowhere near a hundred bucks, but there’s a whole pie (that he isn’t planning to share) for Dean and that’s just as good.


	2. Chapter 2

Sometime in the middle of the night, Dean wakes up to whimpers and a hushed voice. He grips the gun under his pillow first before raising his head to see what it is.

Cap isn’t in his bed; instead, he is next to Barnes on his. The voice belongs to Cap, whispering assurances to a trembling Barnes who seems to be caught in a nightmare. He isn’t touching the other man, but is close enough to be a comforting presence.

Dean lies back again, swallows. Eventually the whimpers die down, but Cap continues to speak words that he can’t hear. He shuts his eyes and turns away, as if turning his back to it can erase everything he unwittingly witnessed in the past couple minutes.

He falls asleep long after the whispers stop.

 

\- - - - -

 

In the morning, nobody says anything about the night before mainly because one doesn’t know what happened, another thinks he’s the only who knows what happened, and the last one would never admit that he saw what happened.

But Cap’s eyes meet Dean’s at one point during breakfast, deep and solemn. Like he knows.

And Dean... Dean grins like he’s confused. Dean pretends he doesn’t know.

The pancake, drenched in syrup, sticks to his throat as it goes down.

 

\- - - - -

 

Sammy calls.

Simultaneously relieved and nervous, Dean excuses himself after their meal to see what his brother wants.

“’Sup, bitch? Miss me already?”

Sam scoffs. _“Don’t flatter yourself, jerk.”_

The word ‘jerk’ has never sounded sweeter to Dean’s ears. “Oh, guess I’ll hang up then.”

_“What? No, wait!”_

Dean cackles gleefully.

_“You’re such an asshole, Dean.”_

He can imagine the bitch face Sam is sporting currently.

“Just being the loving big brother that I am.”

_”Really? I couldn’t tell by how much fun you’re having by yourself while seals are being broken.”_

It’s sarcastic, probably meant to be a relatively harmless jab, but the words are loaded with thorns when they reach Dean. Resentment and guilt comes up hot and bitter to his throat, and Dean feels his face heat. Yeah, no; they’re certainly not okay.

The tense silence after those words gets broken by an explosive sigh from Sam. _“Dean, that’s not—”_

“So, why did you call, Sam?” Dean says as casually as he can through grit teeth. He bites his lip to physically prevent anymore words he’d like to say.

 _”I—”_ Sam falters before trying again. _“So you’re hanging with Captain America?”_

Dean blinks, surprised. Whatever he expected Sam to say, it was not that.

“Yeah.” He licks his lips. “Yeah. Uh...”

 _”What’s it like?”_ is the next question.

“Wow, um...” Dean scratches the back of his neck, deflated and sheepish. He looks around first to make sure no one’s listening to him. “Him and Barnes—you know, Sergeant Bucky Barnes, Cap’s best buddy?—they’re pretty cool, I guess.” That was lame, Dean thinks.

And apparently, so does Sam. _“’Pretty cool’? That’s it? Come on, Dean.”_

“What do you want me to say?” Dean grumbles.

_“These guys are like, legendary super heroes. War veterans, America’s best. They save the world on a regular basis!”_

“Yeah, so do we.”

_“Totally different scale.”_

“And when they’re not fighting aliens and baddie of the day, they’re just regular guys who need to get with the times.”

_”You suck.”_

Dean smirks. “You jealous, Sammy?”

 _”No,”_ Sam says in a way that totally means he is.

“Hey,” Dean says, tone softer. “We’ll be there soon.” 

A pause, and then, _”Yeah.”_

“Take care of yourself.” Against Ruby, hopefully, but Dean doesn’t say that. 

_”You too, Dean.”_

 

\- - - - -

 

They spend the day walking around the city. Blending in with civilians. It’s a lot harder than it seems.

Cap tries his hardest to avoid attention: “Steve Rogers? Yeah, I’ve been told I look like him.”

And Barnes attracts girls and boys of the angsty teen variety: “What’s an indie band?”

Dean’s too busy trying not to laugh his ass off in between drooling over baked goods displayed in the windows of pastry cafés.

It’s a hectic day overall, but that’s what the big city experience is about: too many people, a park in everyone’s backyard, a forest of buildings. They do enjoy themselves, of course, touring around malls and museums and finally purchasing overpriced pastries at fancy-ass bakeries. Dean’s just glad that he wouldn’t ever have to live in one of these places. Not that he actually lives anywhere, to be exact.

Dinner is at a decent pub where locals and tourists mingle and by the end of the meal, they’re ready to call it a night.

Well, almost everyone.

“You sure, Dean? We can stay a while longer.”

“Nah, it’s fine, go get your sleep. I got the other key.”

Cap shoots one last frown at Dean before following after Barnes.

Dean sighs, sticks his hands into his pockets, and goes to find a bar where he can drink alone in peace. Sam’s words from this morning had rolled around in his head all day and it had only made him more agitated as time passed. The others may have noticed, but Dean had acted like nothing was wrong.

He goes into the first bar he finds. Waves at the bartender for a beer.

Even without everything about the apocalypse weighing on him, today had not been the best kind of day. It hadn’t exactly been the ideal way he would spend a vacation, but he had gone with it because sometimes you do things that your friends want. And these guys... Dean doesn’t have much longer with them.

Soon, he’ll be facing reality with Sam at his side and all this would become a distant memory.

He feels a bitter smiles stretch across his face and takes the first sip of cold beer. Hopefully, everything will turn out okay so that there _is_ a world left for his friends to save.

Friends. Yeah, he thinks they’re friends now.

 

\- - - - -

 

The room is quiet when Dean stumbles in at three a.m., not quite as drunk as he wants to be. He remembers to fix the salt line at the door before crashing on his bed. As his eyes close, he prays to nothing that nightmares don’t chase him in the dark.

But they do. Dean’s prayers always go unanswered.

There’s so much shrieking that he doesn’t know where it’s coming from, and it’s just as likely him as any other poor soul in this never-ending bloodbath. Tonight, he’s carving and it’s pleasure and pain and horror and glee.

He wakes up to the morning sun, sweat and tears on his face. A warm weight on his ankle.

It’s startling enough that he freezes, because usually he’s waking up alone.

A glance shows Cap sitting on one of the plush chairs next to Dean’s bed, asleep with his head on one arm on the bed and the other arm stretched out into the hand on Dean’s leg. Barnes is next to him on the other chair, flipping through one of those city guide books, looking bored.

He looks up and sees Dean awake. Says nothing because there’s nothing to be said. And his face softens in understanding.

Dean looks away, choking back emotion.

This sucks. It’s Dean vulnerable and laid bare and weak, and he never wanted to show this to anyone. Not even Sam.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Barnes says.

They’re words that Dean is familiar with, words that he has repeated countless times to others and to himself. When it wasn’t okay.

Someone is here to say those words to him.

“Shut up, Barnes,” Dean says, throat tight.

And then he breathes out, relaxes. Lets the nightmare fade away.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean ends up leaving the room after extracting his ankle from Cap’s (comforting, warm) hold to cool down and feel less ashamed about his tears. When he gets back, they act the same except maybe Cap’s smiles are a little warmer and Barnes claps him on the shoulder once before resuming packing.

Dean doesn’t say thank you, not wanting to acknowledge his moment of weakness. But he tells them to hurry up so he can treat them to breakfast.

A call to Bobby as they’re loading up the car reveals a possible hunt in Hopkinsville, Kentucky. Six bodies have been discovered with missing hearts in the past few months, and the man asks if Dean and his buddies mind taking a look on their way to Sioux Falls since it’s nearly time for the next full moon. They confirm with each other that it sounds like a lone werewolf and Dean agrees to drop by.

He’s never been to the city, but Cap uses the GPS thing on his phone to get them there as fast as possible. During the drive, Dean explains what’s going to happen.

“The thing is,” he says, “a lot of these monsters we hunt appear human at first glance: werewolves, vampires, demons, shapeshifters, et cetera. You need the experience to read the signs and pick up the clues correctly.”

“Why do the werewolves only eat the heart?” Cap asks.

“Beats me; maybe it’s a delicacy to them.”

Barnes, who is riding shotgun, crinkles his face in disgust which makes Dean snort.

“What, too graphic for your delicate sensibilities?”

A metallic punch to the arm later, Dean admits that teasing the guy may not have been the smartest thing to do.

“Anyway,” he continues, “this hunt should be a piece of cake since it’ll be something like subduing a wild animal. Pretty sure we got the wolf-man beat in terms of manpower.”

“And what if we get bitten? It could—how did you put it—‘turn’ us.”

“Well, I’m putting bets on your muscles of steel, Cap,” Dean grins, meeting the man’s incredulous eyes in the rearview mirror. “We’ll find out which comes out victorious soon enough.”

“Dean...”

“I’m just joking. Won’t let anything happen to you guys.”

Yeah, Dean will make sure they get back to S.H.I.E.L.D. in one piece, just as they were before. He grips the wheel a little tighter.

Conversation dies down, and for a while it’s only music playing in the background and wind blowing into the car through the open windows. Barnes is lightly snoring as he takes a nap and Cap’s tapping away on his gadget.

“Six victims, you said...” Cap eventually mumbles from the back. “Other things they have in common besides missing hearts is that they’re all early to mid-twenties and have been to the same dance club.”

Dean, who has been in zen-driving-mode, registers the words belatedly. He sits up straighter, surprised at the unexpected information. In the mirror, Cap is reading something on his phone.

“Wait, what? How do you know that?”

“It says in the police reports,” Cap replies absently.

That makes Dean pause. “You hacked into police records.”

The man finally looks up at that, the expression on his face one of someone who got caught doing something they shouldn’t. Then it turns sheepish. “Well, no. Technically, it wasn’t me—“

“You ask your S.H.I.E.L.D. buddies?” Dean teases.

Cap is silent, appearing slightly put out. “Just trying to help,” he says a few seconds later.

The significant lack of friends that Dean has had throughout his life means that he’s not familiar with the kind of care and display of—dare he say—affection that one is supposed to expect within this particular dynamic. Sure, he’s heard the stories through Sammy, about hanging out together, helping each other with homework and tasks, asking and giving favours just to name a few. But overall, he has had very few opportunities to experience them himself as he was growing up.

However, in this instant, having just heard that Captain America pulled strings and broke laws to make Dean’s job easier for him... well, a guy can’t help but be flattered. It makes his chest swell and collapse at the same time, a mixture of emotions roiling inside that ranges from delight to frustration to uncertainty. He shakes his head before it starts to hurt from all the thinking he never does.

“So what else is there?” he asks with a grin, still wanting to show some appreciation. He gets a flat stare in return, but can see that Cap isn’t actually upset. The eyes are soft and it scares Dean because he likes it, wants to see more of it. His grin falters slightly.

A sudden hit to his thigh makes him jump, bite back a curse. “Fuck, ow.” Or not.

“Eyes on the road,” Barnes says.

Dean sighs, dangerous moment passed. “Yeah, yeah.”

 

\- - - - -

 

Thanks to Cap’s enthusiastic and thorough (yet illegal) research, they discover that the attacks had occurred sometime between midnight and four a.m. within approximately two hundred feet of the club. It’s a lot of ground to cover, but nothing too problematic.

There are five days left until the full moon, and the first night yields no results. Just unwanted eyefuls of drunk couples making out, poor suckers with alcohol swimming in their blood vomiting everything they paid for, and screaming assholes trying to wake up the neighbourhood before being silenced with a fist or five.

They get back to the motel shivering from the cold night air and don’t wake up until noon, and not fully until after two cups of coffee.

Also, Dean finally finishes the last of his medication under Cap and Barnes’ watchful eyes. He swears that he’s all better now, but it’s easier than arguing.

The next night is pretty much the same.

Barnes glares fiercely into his coffee the morning after.

As tired as he is, Dean cracks a smile, amused. It’s _not_ cute, but he kind of wants to pet the mop of bed-hair on top of the guy’s head.

“Yeah, I know. Sometimes it’s getting thrown into walls, sometimes it’s stakeouts that makes you want to shoot something.”

And then Barnes is looking up at Dean, assessing. The glares has shifted to a contemplative frown.

“What?”

“This is a hard life, Dean,” Cap says from beside Barnes.

Dean snorts. “Dude, it’s only been two nights.”

“I mean—”

“It’s mine and I’m used to it,” Dean says, tone clearly indicating that they’re not discussing this further.

A frustrated tension fills the table, and nothing more is said for the rest of their meal.

 

\- - - - -

 

Two forty a.m. the third night, turns out that wolf-man is actually wolf- _wo_ man and she gets a slash into her latest victim’s back before Barnes tackles her to the ground. Cap dives in and grabs the targeted girl away before sending her running to a cab that will take her to the nearest hospital.

This time, Barnes does Dean proud and doesn’t hesitate to knock out Miss Claws. The force behind his punch effectively renders the creature unconscious and Dean, holding his Taurus steady on the werewolf, is impressed. He realises somewhere in the back of his mind that Barnes could actually have broken Dean’s arm in the car a couple days ago if he hadn’t been holding back.

Dean waves at Barnes to move, then he fires a silver bullet into the heart, finishing the job.

Cap joins them then, watches as the sharp teeth and claws recede, leaving behind a normal, brown-haired girl. She looks young, might have been someone’s daughter, maybe a college student. Neither he nor Barnes say anything, but they don’t move, either.

“Alright,” Dean says, “let’s get out of here before people come to check what the noise is.”

They drive back to the motel to grab the rest of their things and head out of the city within the hour.

No one talks.

Dean drives and drives and drives.


	4. Chapter 4

Somewhere off of I-29, Dean takes the next exit he sees because he has been driving non-stop and his passengers are dead to the world and he just might crash the car in the next ten minutes. He had passed a ‘Welcome to Missouri’ sign a while ago so figures he’s somewhere in the state. He pulls off the road as soon as he deems it safe, and then kills the engine. He closes his eyes.

And wakes up to the smell of coffee.

When Dean blinks sleep from his eyes and looks out the window, the sun is starting to set. Panic chases away the remnants of sleepiness as he fumbles around for his phone to check the time—

“It’s four in the afternoon.”

Stopping his movements, Dean turns his head towards the voice. Ah, that’s where the coffee smell was coming from.

“That for me?” he asks hopefully after clearing his throat.

It clearly isn’t; there’s no way the hot beverage would have been prepared for the exact time he woke. Nonetheless, Cap hands him the cup of coffee.

Dean thanks him and takes a sip; the caffeine is a welcome shock to his system. Christ, they’ve travelled for over twelve hours and the hour or two of sleep that his body forced him to take has nowhere near refreshed him. Which is why he is slow to realise that there isn’t a gas station or anything nearby. His face must show his confusion because he hears Cap chuckle.

“The gas station is just a couple miles that way,” Cap explains.

Dean rubs a hand over his face, hunches his shoulders slightly. “Sorry; didn’t mean to pass out in the middle of nowhere.”

“Can we get food now?”

The sudden voice from behind makes Dean swear and spill some coffee on his hand. Thankfully it isn’t scalding, but it’s still messy and his poor heart would like a little less excitement in his life (ironic, considering what his life entails).

“Dude, quit it with the ninja act!”

“Pay attention to your surroundings,” Barnes says, unimpressed.

“Civilization isn’t too far from here from what the gas station attendant told me,” Cap cuts in. “We can find somewhere to eat in about half an hour.”

“Alright,” Dean grunts, and quickly finishes his coffee before turning the key in the ignition.

A hand is on his shoulder. “Dean.” Cap’s eyes are pinched with worry when Dean turns to him—maybe for Dean’s condition, probably for the imminent car in a ditch. “Let me. Please.”

Dean says nothing back. Just nods after a moment, acquiescing the seat equivalent of his throne and sliding into the back next to Barnes.

“You damage her in any way, I will kick your ass from here to friggin’ _China_ ,” he warns.

And then he passes out again.

 

\- - - - -

 

Waking up again is a slow thing, disorienting.

At first, Dean doesn’t recognise where he is, but he’s horizontal on a soft surface where he wasn’t before when he fell asleep. That gets him up quickly.

It’s a motel room, bland and generic with tacky wallpapers. At least the sheets don’t smell too bad.

Just as he realises that he’s alone in the room, the door opens and Cap and Barnes walk in with a bag each of something delicious-smelling. They all look at each other in surprise for a moment, Dean with a hand under the pillow to grab for a weapon that isn’t there; then everyone relaxes and Barnes closes the door behind him.

“Is my car okay?” is the first thing out of Dean’s mouth, then he promptly reddens. But his Baby is very important, some part of his mind argues, and it’s a legitimate concern.

Cap smiles at him, exasperated yet fond. “Not a scratch.”

Dean nods and brings his hand back from under the pillow. Subtly. “Right. Good. Thanks for uh, driving and the room and—” He pauses, just now making the connection of how he managed to get to this bed.

“Carrying you like a princess?”

Yeah, no. Dean doesn’t want to think about that, and the fluster must show on his face because Barnes smirks.

“Bite me,” he retorts.

“I’d rather not,” is the response.

“Here, we got something you can bite without terrible consequences,” Cap says, setting down the bag. He walks back to the door and lays down a salt line across the door.

Noting this, Dean is pleased yet not; he taught them to do this, to use salt and protect themselves, to exorcise ghosts and kill werewolves. And they’ll be prepared if they get attacked a monster, teach others to do the same. He won’t be there to see if their next hunt is successful.

Burgers are on the menu for dinner, and Dean inhales it like the starved man that he is. His mood lifts slightly when he sees disturbed looks on the faces of his companions that usually follows a display of his eating habit.

Later that night he sends a text to Sam, letting him know that he’s in the northwestern part of Missouri and planning to head up to Bobby’s in a couple days. He gets a reply right away, Sam saying that he’s approximately a few hours’ drive away, but he’s settled in for the night and will make the journey tomorrow.

And just like that, Dean’s little vacation is over.

 

\- - - - -

 

They’re all in bed, Dean in one double and Cap and Barnes sharing the other. No one’s sleeping even though it’s almost midnight.

“Hey,” Dean says, “I had fun these last few days. So, thanks.”

There’s a rustling sound like someone is shifting his position. Dean figures one or both turned his direction.

“I enjoyed accompanying you,” Cap says. “It was quite the learning experience.”

Barnes hums, in agreement or something else.

It’s silent for the next while. A decision is made.

“We can’t do this anymore,” Dean breathes quietly, the words coming out surprisingly steady.

No one says anything at first, the air filled with shock and confusion. So he continues before he loses his nerve.

“I mean, it was a nice road trip, touring here, hunting there. But this is a full-time job I gotta get back to and it’s not as much fun and games in between hunts as it has been. And—and you guys have your things, important things. Can’t keep following me around and neglect your duties, right? Citizens to protect and all.”

“We did,” Cap says finally. “We protected, removed the threats. We were there with you.” And after a moment, “What’s going on, Dean?” The question is demanding yet reluctant, like he needs to know the answer but doesn’t want it.

Dean closes his eyes even though he already can’t see in the dark. “Nothing,” he sighs. “It’s just... we’re from different worlds. You shouldn’t have even come with me in the first place and learn about all this.” And then he winces, wishing he hadn’t said that because he doesn’t regret a single moment of their time together. Maybe it’s for the best, though. “No one wants to live knowing that creatures from nightmares and ghost stories are real.”

“You do,” Cap says, sounding oddly bitter about that for some reason Dean can’t fathom. “And so do all the other hunters.”

“Yeah, well, we’re special like that. You don’t start hunting because you thinks it’s cool.” Dean’s mouth is on a roll right now.

“And we can’t help? Are we not allowed to—”

Cap stops there as if he doesn’t know how finish that sentence.

Dean wonders what he might have said, if he had been asking to stay. And something wretched sweeps through him, because they should. But they shouldn’t. They’re not meant to be here, but somehow they fit. He had been afraid of this; that he might find something that he can’t have.

“So, that’s it then.” Like a knife, Barnes’ voice cuts through the stillness of the dark. “We’re done.”

His mind screams _no_ but _yes_ is the word on his lips. Dean's voice is caught in his throat and he can't say anything.

The lack of a verbal answer is taken as affirmation, because there is ruffling of sheets from the other bed and somehow Dean knows that they turned away from him and the conversation is over.

He doesn't want to sleep; doesn't want to wake up and find that they're gone, or still here.

Hours later, he's still awake listening to the soft snores from the others. He can't take it anymore and gets up. Grabs wallet, keys and gun and leaves the room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are you still reading this?? I'm so thankful for everyone who has stuck with the series this far. One more chapter to go!

It's just him and his Baby on the road until the early hours of the morning. When the sun starts to rise, Dean drives back to the motel.

The room is empty when he opens the door, and at first Dean feels his heart drop and _they didn't even say goodbye_ but then he sees the bags on the floor and his chest constricts out of relief.

He falls onto the bed, exhausted, and closes his eyes.

The phone rings.

“Damn it,” Dean mutters as he blindly gropes around in the area the sound is coming from. He finds it at the top edge about to vibrate off the bed. “’Lo.”

_“Dean?”_

Dean sits up. “Hey, Sam.”

_“Hey, I’m leaving now. I’ll be there by noon.”_

“Yeah, okay. Good. Have a safe drive.”

Sam doesn’t reply right away. Then, _“Are they—I mean, you still with them?”_

It’s such a small thing, but it makes Dean smile. And momentarily forget that he’s upset. “Your inner fangirl is showing, Samantha.”

_“Yeah, well, you got to spend weeks with them, you dick.”_

“Ha! You _are_ jealous.” Dean’s grinning now.

 _“You’re getting a well-deserved punch when I get there,”_ Sam says with more than a hint of annoyance. _“They aren’t coming with us to stop the seals, are they?”_

That wipes the grin off of Dean’s face. “No. They’re—they ain’t hunters and they shouldn’t get involved in our fight.”

Speak of the devil, the door opens and Barnes and Cap walk in.

“I’ll see you when you get here, Sam,” Dean finishes quickly then hangs up.

He doesn’t know where to look currently, because they’re all here and Dean basically told them to go away last night and—

“Hey,” he tries.

Barnes nods at him briefly then heads straight to the bathroom.

Cap lingers, not quite looking at Dean, either. “Morning. Was that your brother on the phone?”

“Yeah, the brains of the family,” Dean smiles weakly. “He’s heading over, sort of excited to meet you guys. We can have lunch together.”

One hand unconsciously fists into the bed sheets as words run out, leaving behind empty air. There’s awkwardness and tension that Dean’s not sure what do with. When he looks up, Cap’s eyes are there to meet his.

It’s a firm gaze and Dean’s helplessly caught. There’s a lot in those eyes that he can’t decipher, makes him wonder again why Cap looks at him this way at all. Like he’s always concerned and curious and, and fond.

The bathroom door opens just as Dean thinks to shift away, and both he and Cap turn to the last person to enter the room. Barnes glances at Dean before nodding at Cap in some kind of confirmation. They must have discussed something outside the room, because no words are exchanged but they seem to come to an understanding.

Cap looks back at Dean, determination on his face, and all of a sudden Dean knows.

“Dean,” he says, “we’re going to—”

“I can drop you guys off at the nearest bus station after lunch,” Dean cuts in, heart pounding. “Or you can call your agent dudes, have them pick you up, maybe.” He licks his lips, waits for an answer even though it hurts to keep building this wall between them. It’s for the best, he tells himself.

The expressions on Cap and Barnes’ faces say everything: it’s the last straw. There’s disappointment and anger and hurt directed at him, and he faces it with a false mask of impassiveness. If he doesn’t keep it under control, he just might break down and reveal how weak he is. Unexpectedly, it’s the ache in Barnes’ eyes that nearly does it.

Dean swallows and reaches for his duffel to start packing, and after a few minutes he hears the others do the same.

Even as his back is towards them, he feels as though he has turned away from something much more profound.

It’s for the best.

 

\- - - - -

 

Sam is just as Dean left him when the kid unfolds himself from the car he drove in. Grim, stubborn determination packaged in a towering body of six-foot-four and a puppy-face that would make even the coldest of men melt like ice in the summer. The lack of a certain demon’s presence is a wash of relief over Dean.

They both start toward each other and halt, their Ruby-sized problem leaving them unsure as to where they stand with each other. But then Sam’s face reveals the uncertainty of a boy who is expecting to get scolded, and Dean swiftly closes the gap between them to pull his brother into his arms.

Long arms fold completely around his back and shoulders and Dean barely holds back a pleased sigh at the familiarity.

“It’s been a _month_ , you jerk,” Sam mumbles into Dean’s shoulder.

“Missed you too, bitch.”

They separate after another moment, and Sam turns eager eyes to the other company. Instead of saying anything, he just stands there with wide eyes and an uncontrollable smile.

Dean rolls his eyes.

Cap saves his little brother from further embarrassment by stepping forward with a smile. “Hello, Sam; it’s nice to finally meet you,” he says and offers a hand.

“The pleasure’s all mine—I mean, I’m truly honoured, sir,” Sam babbles enthusiastically, grasping the hand with both of his own.

Thankfully, Cap simply looks amused at the wonder and awe Sam is displaying. “Call me Cap, or Steve if you prefer.”

For some reason, hearing that startles Dean even though he knew that Cap had an actual name.

“You’ve done so much for our country and I never thought that I’d actually meet you in person. I don’t even know how you know Dean—” Letting go of Cap’s hand at last, Sam turns to Barns and puts a hand forth. “And Sergeant Barnes, you’re just as much a hero.”

Barnes takes the hand, smirking. “You can drop the ‘Sergeant’.”

“Right, right, of course.”

Oh God, Dean doesn’t think he can watch much more of this. Yet he’s happy that his brother has something to be delighted about in these hard times. If anyone deserves good things, it’s Sam.

They talk for a few minutes, but Dean isn’t paying attention to what is being said; he’s more focused on the odd yet fitting picture the three of them form: Sam, tall and lanky and boyishly energetic, Cap who is shorter than Sam but towering over everyone protectively with his presence, and Barnes ever the faithful guardian and friend by his side. There’s a smile on all of their faces. With a pang, he thinks of how Sam would have been the better companion with his sociable personality and sharp mind.

An emotion creeps into his heart, giving it a little twist, and he refuses to look too deeply at what it might be.

“Okay, enough. This can all wait until we get some food because I’m starving,” Dean calls out abruptly before walking to the Impala.

That may or may not be the feeling of eyes on the back of his head but whatever.

 

\- - - - -

 

A meal shouldn’t be as awkward as it currently is (at least on Dean’s part, anyway). There is delicious food to be had and nothing else should matter, but all Dean can think about is how this is the last meal he’s sharing with Captain America and Bucky Barnes. Still, he stuffs his face as per usual so that no one notices his funk.

“A little more vegetables in your diet wouldn’t hurt,” Cap remarks from across the table.

Dean frowns at that, unusually annoyed. “None of your business, Cap.”

“Believe me,” Sam pipes up from next to him, “I’ve been telling him for years and he hasn’t listened once.”

There’s a disappointed sigh, and normally he wouldn’t care but right now it puts Dean’s back up.

“Why do you care?” he snaps. “You’ll be gone soon anyway.”

Fuck, fuck. _Fuck_. That wasn’t what he meant to say; he didn’t mean to be angry and defensive. This shouldn’t be how they spend their last moment, with Dean being an absolute dick. He can barely feel Sam’s kick to his leg under the table or hear the hissed ‘ _Dean_ ’, mind overfilled with how he fucked up.

When he dares look up from the table, Cap’s mouth is in a thin line, eyes flat while Barnes’ face is blank. Neither bother to face him.

Dean can barely swallow around the lump in his throat.

“Hey,” he somehow manages to get out, “I—”

“We’ll be out of your hair soon, Dean.”

His eyes snap to Cap’s face, but it’s unreadable; he hates the mystery of it now more than ever. Turning to Barnes’ reveals even less, the stoicism a frightening mask.

The hand under the table curls into a fist, shakes. It’d be easier for them to forget about everything if they believe that Dean’s an asshole who’s only capable of hurting those around him.

“Yeah, fine.”

He stands and leaves the table to go pay for their meal.

 

\- - - - -

 

By the time they leave the diner, there is a vehicle in the parking lot that Cap recognizes as a provision from S.H.I.E.L.D. There is no longer an excuse to drive them one last time to a destination.

Sam gives each Cap and Barnes a firm handshake before they depart.

Dean doesn’t step near them, doesn’t meet their eyes and wishes them a safe trip home.

He watches the car get smaller until he can’t see it anymore. Ignores Sam’s contemplative look.

It's for the best.

 

\- - - - -

 

Five hours later, Dean and Sam are pulling up to Bobby’s salvage yard, only to be greeted by Castiel and Uriel.

“Winchester and Winchester,” Uriel says in that slimy, condescending tone of his.

Makes a guy want to punch him in the throat.

“What do you want?” Dean growls. He’s so not in the mood.

“You watch your tone with me, boy.”

“I’d rather watch you disappear.”

“We need your help,” Castiel finally speaks up, and it’s then that Dean notices the angel standing further back than his partner.

“What, another seal? Not today, thanks.” Dean squares his shoulders, stands straighter, defiance in every part of his body.

“We—” Uriel twists back to look at Castiel who turns his eyes away submissively, “—are not asking.”

What the hell.

“Yeah, and you can go screw yourself. The last time we got involved in your business, we lost a friend. Remember Pamela, Cas?” Dean spits out the last part at Castiel.

Uriel sneers, and it’s a truly ugly thing to witness. “Your filthy existence is only on this plane because your purpose is to serve heaven.” He waves a hand and all of a sudden, Dean can’t speak.

He grabs his throat, opens his mouth, but no noise comes forth. Sam puts a hand on his shoulder and calls his name, alarmed.

“Now shut your mouth and _listen_. Seven angels have been murdered from our garrison, the culprit unknown as of yet.”

“And what do you want _us_ to do?” Sam asks sceptically as he turns to them. “You can’t actually be expecting us to hunt down something that can kill angels.”

“We can deal with the killer just fine,” Uriel says, arrogance dripping from his voice.

Castiel steps forward then. “As soon as we find who it is. Alastair will know; we have captured him,” he continues before Sam can ask again.

Though his vocal abilities have been removed, Dean still expresses his opinion on that by rolling his eyes. Good luck getting any information out of _him_ , he thinks.

Uriel’s eyes glare into Dean’s. “You will be the one to obtain the information from your former teacher, Dean Winchester.”

As soon as the words register, Dean’s heart drops. They can’t mean...

“He is one that cannot be broken by the methods we currently possess, and so...” Castiel says almost apologetically.

“And so, who better than his number one disciple to make him squeal?” Uriel finishes cruelly.

Dean feels himself shaking his head absently, vaguely hearing Sam say his name questioningly.

 _No way_ , he mouths, and even if it wasn’t for the lost voice, the words would have gotten caught. He turns desperate eyes to Castiel, begging silently for him to understand.

Dean can’t go back to _that_.

There is conflict in the unnatural blue eyes and it gives Dean hope for a brief moment before Uriel steps in between them.

The smirk on the douchebag’s face is malicious. “I look forward to your ‘skills’.”

Sam and the salvage yard disappear.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An epilogue of sorts.

It’s quiet inside the car, has been that way for the past couple hours.

Steve doesn’t expect it when Bucky starts talking.

“What are we doing, Steve?”

A simple but loaded question, one that he has to think about the answer carefully. “We’re going home.”

“We left him.”

There is an ache in his chest as he is reminded of the boy who chased them away. The boy who is a man who seems so much older than his years, weary and broken.

“Respecting his wishes, Bucky.”

Bucky snorts. “As if he knows better. He needs someone; we talked about this.”

Steve recalls the conversation they had at the first diner they visited while Dean had been making a phone call, now over a week ago. Dean had been too tired to care for himself, and not just physically. There had been something that drew him to care for the young man as he didn’t have anyone like Steve would always have Bucky and Bucky would always have him. And then it became more than being a caretaker.

He and Bucky saw someone who was generous and caring to a fault, sacrificing his whole life and well-being for the sake of strangers as he stood battling monsters of the night. They saw someone who was unused to being worried over, turned easily to alcohol when faced with problems, and shied away from deeper connections. Someone with so many walls built around him like armour, lonely and in need of someone.

It became friendship, one that was severed too quickly by Dean.

“His brother is with him now,” Steve persists.

“And that’s it? He some kind of dog that gets passed on to whoever next is available to take care of him?”

“That’s not it—”

“What are we doing, Cap.”

Steve realises that it’s a question that already had an answer, one that he had been avoiding.

_Running away._ Being _safe_.

Because he, too, had not wanted to open his heart to one that was so guarded. And, he thinks guiltily, this is exactly what Dean had been expecting. He acts out to make people leave, because he can never expect them to stay. Because it’s too dangerous, because of losses, Steve doesn’t really know.

He pulls off the road suddenly and slows down to a stop. They sit in silence.

“That kid’s a menace,” Steve says slowly.

“I know.”

He turns to face his best friend. “Are you ready, Bucky?”

And when Bucky looks at him, he’s thrown back to all the times he had seen that same expression of love, determination, strength. “I’m always with you, pal.”

Then he smiles and Steve has missed it so much. He pulls Bucky closer by the arm, leans on the metal shoulder in gratitude and just wanting to be near, heart warmed and comforted.

After a few minutes, Steve makes a call.

“Tony, please find me the location of Dean Winchester.”

 

 

(A bit of teasing accompanies the relay of information—something about being clumsy in his old age and losing people easily—but he figures it’s a small price to pay when he knows that in a few hours, he will be seeing the face of one surprised Dean Winchester.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for part 2! It ends here because it's the build up to the canon storyline of season 4 which will be the next couple parts. Unfortunately, it will take a while to write because there are a lot of details to hash out and I am sorely lacking in the creativity department when it comes to diverging from canon. I'm greatly flattered that people are enjoying this and leaving nice comments. Thank you and see you next time, hopefully!


End file.
